Until The Real Thing Comes Along
by VickiAnnette
Summary: "We'll get married." He tells her, as she cleans out Valjean's room with tears in her eyes. "I don't want your pity." She scoffs at him. "I can never love again like I loved Marius." "Then don't marry me for love, marry me for security." She sizes him up and down with bleak, wet eyes and finally nods. "Alright."
1. The Proposal

_I'd wait for you_

_I'd slave for you_

_I'd be a beggar or a knave for you_

_If that isn't love it'll have to do_

_Until the real thing comes along_

Cosette found Enjolras unconscious, laying beside Marius' dead body on the blood-soaked, cobblestone street outside the cafe. After finally finding his faint heartbeat, she took him back to her home and asked her father if they could look after the fallen revolutionary. Valjean vaguely recognized the poor boy, he was that battered and beaten. But he could not deny his daughter's plea. He was overcome with guilt, disappointed that he failed as a father to shield his precious lark from this recent tragedy. She had already had a difficult childhood and he hoped he could prevent such hurt from ever touching her again. He knew now that the only way Cosette could deal with her personal grief of losing Marius was through doing what she did best, and that was caring for people. She had already been caring for him as he aged, his hair turning white, bones growing weaker. Now what she needed was a fresh charge to distract her.

And so she played the doting nurse, lavishing her attention on both young man and ailing father.

Enjolras was in bad condition after the revolution; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and every other way. His grandiose dreams were dashed and destroyed and so, it seemed, was his soul, his very reason for existence gone. All he wanted was to waste away, to slowly, painfully die and join his brothers - the young, brave, and faithful children of the revolution who died (in vain) to see his dreams come true. All his fault. He deserved to die. Or deserved to live, to be tormented by his past, by his friends' ghosts, for the rest of his life. And so, day after day, he swayed between wanting to kill himself as punishment or stay living as penance. Some days he wasn't sure which was worse.

To make matters even more complicated, he was now at the mercy of a strange gentleman and his songbird of a daughter. This strange creature that came in every morning and evening to check on him, humming a song with every step. She had introduced herself as Cosette and it wasn't until a few days later, once his excruciating headache had gone away, that he recognized her as Marius' lover. His heart sank heavily in his chest as the realization came to him that she was also scarred by this revolution, both of them trying desperately to recover, like two dogs licking their wounds. His recovery was slower, stagnated by a cloud of depression and sense of helplessness. He hated being at the mercy of anybody but he could not leave, much less get up from his bed on his own. So he rested, week after week, with Cosette's songs bringing in each dawn and announcing each dusk.

* * *

_I'd lie for you_

_I'd sigh for you_

_I'd tear the stars down from the sky for you_

_If that isn't love, it will have to do_

_Until the real thing comes along_

When he was finally able to walk around, with the help of a cane, he limped over to Valjean's chambers, hoping to finally thank and repay the kind man for taking him in. Whereas Enjolras was growing stronger and healthier with each passing day, Valjean, already past his prime, was growing weaker.

"What's the prognosis, my dear boy?" Valjean coughed, a tired smile on his face. He had hired his personal physician to do double duty and care for Enjolras as he recovered.

"For you or I?" Enjolras said with a dry laugh, unable to shake the heaviness in his heart.

"I know my own," Valjean said with a sad look in his eyes. Enjolras could no longer meet his gaze. "How much longer until you are back to planning more revolutions?"

"Oh, I haven't stopped." Enjolras couldn't help grinning, looking much like a mischievous school boy. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and planning. Not much else to do while being bedridden for so long."

"And so? What are your plans after you leave?" Valjean asked. Enjolras bit his lip, hesitating.

"I'm going to finish law school." He stood up straighter; well, as straight as he could without hurting his knee. "I'm going to be a politician." He said matter-of-factly. There was the confidence, the burning flame that once again fueled his words. If he was determined to enter the political realm, no one in the world could doubt he would, not even Valjean. He nodded his approval at the young man.

"A far better way to implement the sort of change you're envisioning."

"I think so too, monsieur." Enjolras didn't know how much he needed to hear this man's approval. Something his own father had never given him growing up. "I came to thank you for your indelible hospitality. You have saved my life."

"Not I. It was Cosette who first found you. It was she who begged me to house you." Valjean eyed him, studying the determination in his eyes. "A worthy investment we've made, I think."

"I shall strive to do better, to do more with my life, monsieur. If not for myself, than on your behalf."

"No doubt you will." Valjean smiled.

"If there is any way I can repay you, any way at all, just name it."

"There is one thing I'll ask of you." The old man sighed heavily, pausing before he continued. "I don't have many years left. I suspect my time is coming soon and I've been preparing myself for the departure."

"Sir-" Enjolras stepped closer, but Valjean held his hand up to silence him.

"The one thing I cannot do is ready my dear Cosette for my death. She will be devastated." Tears were brimming in his eyes. "I will miss her so."

Enjolras watched on as the man collected himself and continued.

"I will be leaving behind a great fortune for her so she shall not want for anything. But even so, you understand the society we live in. She is not safe without a husband to look after her, to provide security for her." He looked up at Enjolras and suddenly he understood.

"You're entrusting me with your daughter?" The young man questioned, his voice quiet with gravity. Valjean slowly nodded.

"I shall try to live long enough for you to finish school, so you can at least start your career."

"That shouldn't take more than a year."

"After which, I'm afraid Cosette will be left alone in this empty house. Someone will come find you and notify you of my passing. I'm sure you'll know what to do from there."

Enjolras mulled over his words.

"You think she'll say yes to me?" He asked the old man. Valjean furrowed his brows, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Enjolras' soul.

"Tell me, my boy, have you ever been in love?"

Enjolras frowned, confusion over his face.

"No...can't say I have."

"Do you think you'll ever fall in love with someone?" Valjean asked further.

"To be honest with you, monsieur, I think that is something God has not intended for me. I've never had much interest for romance or love. Unless, of course, you count in my love for Patria."

Valjean chuckled.

"Then you're perfect. Cosette will make a good wife. You'll never meet anyone more kind-hearted or compassionate or," here he laughed again, "or more strong-willed. She will be a faithful companion… Besides, her heart has been shattered by Marius' death. I don't believe she'll ever open herself up to love someone that way again." He said sorrowfully.

This seemed to seal the deal for Enjolras, since he wasn't really looking for a romantic companion. He didn't want to deny Cosette that chance, though, either. But if Valjean was promising that she wouldn't ever love again, perhaps an amicable union between the two of them could be made after all.

"I shall do all that you ask. Your Cosette will be cared for and protected under my watch."

"Thank you, my boy. You've no idea the weight you've lifted off my shoulders. Just do me one more favor. Please don't mention any of this to her. Not until I pass away."

"You have my word, monsieur."

Valjean smiled weakly and waved Enjolras away, keeping a giant secret hidden in the depths of his soul. Maybe it was wrong of him to keep it from the young man, but if all went according to plan, they would gradually come to find it out on their own.

_He was Adam incarnate, _

_truly the first of his kind, _

_handcrafted by God Himself, _

_gilded with courage, _

_adorned with flaming passion, _

_lips speaking the language of angels, _

_with all the confidence and assurance of a Greek demigod._

_So when Eve came, _

_all sweetness and gentleness in her face, _

_the soft earth bending underneath her feet,_

_grace as natural to her as breathing, _

_he was not intimidated. _

_At least not at first._

_They were of the same kind, _

_only, Eve was made for loving and she loved generously. _

_If not Adam, then she would love all of nature and life around her._

_Adam found it more difficult to recognize his need for her, _

_so used to living on his own, _

_walking the ground alone._

_If only he knew what God knew when He sent Eve. _

_That Adam was still incomplete _

_And Eve was on assignment. _

_That she was the completion._

Valjean's great secret was that he knew Cosette would once again love. And he hoped her love would be enough to melt Enjolras' heart of stone.


	2. The Agreement

Enjolras finished school and three weeks later, his own father died. He hadn't seen his father since he decided to direct his attentions towards stirring up a revolution. His father had all but disowned him, ashamed that his bright and promising son had chosen to waste away his talent and brains on such a ridiculous cause. And yet, he had bequeathed Enjolras their entire estate. The young man inherited a mansion the size of a palace to live in and take care of. It was perfect timing too, he gruesomely thought to himself. Here he was trying to make all the right connections in order to improve his standing and rank and now his father had left him an enormous property, one of the most beautiful in all of France. And all of his father's colleagues and friends would be attending the funeral. All Enjolras had to do was put on a good face, make small talk, impress the nobility, and convince them that he had mended his ways and wanted to be included into their circle. He would take his place among the greats, ironically fulfilling the dream his father had for him all along.

"I'll finally make you proud, father." Enjolras said to himself sardonically, fixing his black tie as he looked in the mirror. He was thinking long term now. Once he had enough power to make and execute laws, he would be able to change France for the better. "Just don't lose focus." He reminded himself. He'd seen what power had done to the best of his father's friends...

* * *

_I'd gladly move_

_The earth for you_

_To prove my love, dear_

_And its worth for you_

_If that isn't love, it will have to do_

_Until the real thing comes along._

A week after the funeral, which went as expected, Enjolras heard of Valjean's passing. It had been a little more than a year since he saw the kind old man, but the death hurt just as much as his father's had. He resolved to leave his town and travel back to the place that held so many memories for him, both good and bad. As he walked the familiar cobblestone streets, he could almost hear the songs he and his friends used to sing, echoing all around him. He could still see the spot outside of the cafe that would forever be stained with their blood.

"Do not worry, my friends. We shall get our revolution. I am making sure of it. Your deaths will not have been for naught." He whispered to the skies. With heavy steps, he finally reached Valjean's home.

A servant opened the door when he knocked and he asked to see Cosette. He found her in Valjean's room, back to him, cleaning out and packing her father's things into a chest.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said. Cosette turned to look at him, quietly sniffling, eyes full of tears. She said nothing, only nodded, lips pressed together to keep from trembling. His heart broke at the sight of her sorrow. "Let me marry you." He blurted out, Valjean's promise coming to the forefront of his mind. Cosette stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. He never was very tactful. She scoffed, believing he was joking or making fun of her.

"I don't want your pity."

"But you need it." He stated and she continued to stare at him with furrowed brows. "Your father wanted me to wed you once he passed, it was his wish for you."

"My father never told me-"

Enjolras handed her a letter. She took it skeptically and opened it.

_ My darling, dear Cosette._

_Marry the man. I've left you enough to make your life quite comfortable, my gift to you. But you will not fare well on your own with such a fortune. You need the protection that only a marriage can bring. I trust Enjolras will do his best to provide that for you. He's got a good heart, my love. There are worse choices out there for you. Trust my judgment, I only want what is best for you. I'm sorry to have left you so early in your life. I pray that you move past this tragedy and continue living your beautiful life. Don't let your shine dim nor let your song fade. You have been the light of my life. Know that I shall forever love you._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Your loving father_

Cosette's tears spilled down her face as she finished reading. Enjolras watched helplessly, not knowing a thing about how to comfort another human being.

"I can never love again like I loved Marius." She told him, voice dark, almost a whisper. It sounded like a promise.

"I wasn't asking you to marry me for love. Marry me for security, for protection."

She sized him up with bleak, wet eyes and finally nodded.

"Alright."


	3. The Remedy

_"Lord, have mercy on Your servant. This day I surrender my future into Your hands and the hands of the man waiting for me down the aisle. Take my life as an offering and sustain me through the rest of my miserable life."_

Cosette walked down the aisle towards Enjolras, head bowed, golden curls pinned atop her head, iridescent in her ivory, lace gown. As he watched her, he couldn't help remembering the scriptures his mother read to him as a child, something about God always requiring a perfectly unblemished sacrifice. And so she seemed, coming to him like a cow to the slaughter, hopelessness in her eyes. She had the kind of beauty one found in a wilted flower, in the decay of Autumn leaves perhaps. No one could deny she was something extraordinary before, but today was her funeral march.

How could he have for one second thought that he was doing something noble here? This agreement was supposed to be on Marius' behalf, for the sake of his dear, dead friend._ "I'm sorry, Pontmercy. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to marry your girl."_ Enjolras thought to himself. _"Why did you have to go die and take her spirit with you? Here she is before me like a walking corpse. I see you looking at me through her dead eyes. Is this also part of the agreement? Will I be haunted by your presence for the rest of my life? Will she continue carrying you around till her last breath?" _

Enjolras and Cosette stood facing each other as the priest began to speak, all eyes turned on the beautiful couple. No one knew much about this mysterious, rich, young heiress, but all could agree that she was something spectacular to behold. Her quiet and graceful demeanor complimented the young politician's dangerous charm. What a pair they would make.

* * *

_I'd sigh for you_

_I'd cry for you_

_I'd tear the stars down from the skies for you_

_If that isn't love it'll have to do_

_Until the real thing comes along_

"You didn't come to dinner." Cosette said quietly from the door of Enjolras' study. It had been nearly three weeks since the day of their wedding and grief had decided to make it's permanent residence in their home. Enjolras' way of dealing with it was to immerse himself in work, which was what he was doing at that very moment. He'd been reading books, researching and writing papers, keeping his mind busy. Sometimes Cosette would find him asleep at his desk in the mornings. Living in his father's house brought back distant childhood memories, a mixture of good and bad past experiences, old tutors, nurses and nannies, kind servants... Though he barely saw or knew his father when he was growing up, he still loved the man. His death had left a gaping hole in Enjolras' heart and he had no idea what to do about it.

Cosette was somber, her footsteps soft, touch light, voice faint, everything about her fragile and shaky. Marius' death was devastating, but Valjean was her whole world and now he was gone and she no longer knew or recognized anything, not even herself. She was in an unfamiliar place, living with a complete stranger she now had to call her husband. They slept in separate chambers and Enjolras was often away, traveling for work. They rarely saw each other, Cosette left alone with grief threatening to turn her insane.

She needed something to occupy her attention and, since there really was no one else, she focused on Enjolras. But he wouldn't let her care for him, not understanding the importance of her need. And because he didn't understand, he unknowingly kept her in her depressed state.

She approached him from behind, eyeing the various Greek and Latin books strewn about his desk, papers spilling onto the floor. She studied the hard set lines on his face, those determined brows, steady, ink-stained fingers holding a quill.

"You need to eat." She tried again. He said nothing, scribbling away. She was getting slightly irritated with his disregard so she took the hand holding the quill and broke his concentration. Instantly waking from his daze, he looked up as if noticing she was in the room for the first time. "I don't like being ignored." She said sharply. Then, in a softer, weary voice- "Look, we don't have many duties towards each other. But I have a duty as your wife to make sure you don't starve yourself." She saw the redness in his eyes, the wrinkles under them. _I see we both suffer..._ She placed a careful hand on his cheek. "To make sure you rest." He blinked at her, still trying to grasp the fact that she was in his private study, holding his hand and touching his cheek. "And it is your duty as my husband to join me for dinner."

It was only when she let go of him and moved away that he was able to think somewhat clearly.

"Forgive me." He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "That was inconsiderate of me. I shall try not to miss dinner again." She smiled then, a little light returning to her eyes. She felt refreshed as she stepped out, resolving to find ways to help him, however slight they may be. Enjolras retired to his chambers early that night and, as a result, woke fully rested, something he hadn't experienced in months.


	4. The Spell

Dinners were relatively quiet between the young couple. What first seemed a bit awkward at the start, slowly grew into a comfortable and cordial companionship. They always ate together in silence, both lost in thought yet each grateful for the other's presence in the room, grateful for the sound of someone else breathing, walking, eating, _living_. Just the simple reminder that they were no longer totally alone.

Once he was done with his dinner, Enjolras would usually head to his study to finish his work while Cosette retired to the library nearby to catch up on her reading. Once the sun set and the hours grew late, Cosette would enter his study to remind Enjolras to go to sleep. He often lost track of the time and, if not for her reminders, would continue working into the early morning.

Eventually, he would start having her proofread his essays for him, knowing how much she liked to read. Cosette turned out to be a significant help, correcting his work or pointing out certain inconsistencies and flaws in his writing. As she asked for clarifications on certain topics, he slowly began to open up about his beliefs, ideas about freedom and justice spilling out of his mouth as easily as they did a year ago. Though hesitant in the beginning, Enjolras began to value her input and opinions over time. And so was their schedule for the first few months of their marriage.

* * *

_Steady, steady, steady  
__Your steady touch I love so much I'm sleepless  
__Oh God, oh God, oh God  
__God I'm only human and I'm helpless_

He was so busy with his work one night that he didn't hear Cosette enter his study, didn't feel her approach him from behind and place her hands on his shoulders, peeking over his head to see what he was working on. It was only when she started massaging his back that he suddenly snapped out of his daze. He furrowed his brows as he felt her deft hands kneading his muscles, adding pressure to his shoulders and neck, her thumbs creating circles, fingers digging into his skin.

Being around Cosette, who was much more comfortable with physical contact than anyone else he knew, made him realize how unused to it he was. Growing up, physical touch was NOT the way his parents showed him affection and care. Occasionally he'd get a few words of praise or affirmation here or there, but hugs, kisses, or anything of the sort were completely foreign to him. He remembered Courfeyrac and the way he liked to slap people on the shoulder when he greeted them or Grantaire, who was always looking to wrestle someone once he had a few drinks in him. Feuilly too would swing his arm around Enjolras' shoulder when they were having a conversation and each time, the young leader had to suppress his discomfort and bear it. Otherwise, the boys would make fun of him for being such a stickler. He knew what they called him when they thought he wasn't listening. _The Chief, a conservative, a statue of marble…_ He didn't really want anymore nicknames added on to the list.

Cosette certainly had a way about her, occasionally brushing his shoulder as she passed by or placing a hand on his arm when she was talking to him, the way she'd reach up to fix his collar before he'd leave on a short trip... It all seemed so natural to her and he still had a hard time getting used to it, each touch jolting and strange. But this time, it felt different. This was not a usual thing for her to do.

"Cosette...darling." He spoke, voice rough from disuse. "What...what are you doing?" She added more pressure, fingers sliding down his back.

"You're incredibly tense." She said seriously. "You've been working too hard, it's been stressing you out." There was only innocence and sweetness in her voice as her hands shaped and formed him like soft clay. He couldn't comprehend the unfamiliar feelings coursing through him, couldn't tell if it was discomfort or something else… Though he'd never admit or even acknowledge it, somewhere deep inside, he felt pleasure at her touch, something relaxing about the patterns she kneaded into his skin.

His quill slipped out of his fingers and he couldn't move a muscle to pick it up, everything within him turned to liquid. He was suddenly acutely aware of the silence in the room, the only sound being Cosette's soft, steady breathing behind him. _What sort of spell have you cast over me..._

Her hands changed their course, fingers sliding up the nape of his neck, into his hair. A panic gripped his heart and without thinking, he reached behind him and caught her wrist, stopping her. There was a pause as he swallowed and tried to think of an explanation for his action.

"You should go." His voice was deeper than she'd ever heard it, quiet and firm. "I have a lot of work to finish and you're presence is…" He swallowed again as Cosette slid her other hand back down, thumb ghosting over the soft skin behind his ear and he could do nothing to stop the shiver running down his spine.

"A distraction?" She muttered under her breath, finishing the sentence for him. He cleared his throat.

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll go." She seceded, but stayed where she was. He wondered why she wasn't leaving when he realized he still had her wrist in a tight grip. He unclenched his hand and let her go, watching as she exited the room, feeling more tense than when she came in.


End file.
